Film Notes: Point Blank

Point Blank (1967) film notes by Tova Gannana for the L.A. Noir: Shadows in Paradise series, presented by Greg Olson Productions. The series runs September to November 2025 at SIFF Cinema Uptown. 

Of this we can be certain: Walker (Lee Marvin) has no home to go home to; he could kill, but doesn’t; he has no other name. Walker is singular in his meaning: He wants the cash he’s owed to right the wrong done to him. Point Blank (1967) begins at the bottom, with a botched robbery, two men killed when they were meant to be only knocked out, and Lynne (Sharon Acker) – Walker’s wife – and Reece (John Vernon) – Walker’s best friend –double-crossing him and leaving him for dead.

Walker in a prison cell, shot multiple times, has risen. No mother or father to witness, he comes to on the island of Alcatraz with only birds and barbed wire. Walker will eventually return as the sole survivor; the film will swing itself in a circle.

Los Angeles is a city with multiple dimensions. There’s the apartment building housing ordinary people across the street from the building that houses “The Organization.” There’s the jazz club where the performer in sunglasses shares the mic with a man chosen from the audience; the go-go dancers who dance like jackknives on stage while Walker rumbles with hit men behind the curtain. Point Blank feels like a notebook of doodles, of phone numbers, of half-cracked phrases. Walker is putting together everyone’s motives. It seems to be not just about making money, but about longevity, which in Point Blank turns out to be unattainable.

Walker’s methods: surprise, and force. His actions are ruled by instinct. He naps when needed. He’ll break down a door if he doesn’t have a key. When Lynne’s sister Chris (Angie Dickinson) beats him with her purse and fists, he stands as still as a tree trunk. As he unloads his gun into Reece and Lynne’s empty bed, the look on his face says he was expecting someone to be in it. Walker listens more than he talks. Alcatraz taught him to use both violence and silence. Point Blank is all about perspective. Even when Walker is not on the screen, we feel his presence. The Organization discusses in a boardroom, at a car lot, on a landing strip, how to trap Walker and what his next move may be.

The images of memories in the film are Walker’s, and he’s burdened with all that he remembers. When he and Chris embrace first on the floor and then in a bed with silver sheets, they roll on top of one another, and each time they turn, it’s a new set of couples: Walker and Lynne, Lynne and Reece, Reece and Chris, Chris and Walker. It’s as if the film is boring a hole into the earth, and as it is written, from whence they came and to where they will return. Memory and fate, sealed like a handshake.

“Well,” Reece begins his sentences; he doesn’t put out his cigarettes. The sisters Lynne and Chris go with the flow: Lynne drowns, Chris floats. Neither stay with Walker: He’s not someone who can be held onto. The first line of the film in Alcatraz belongs to Reece; the rest of the film is Walker’s. Reece changed the course of Walker’s path, so Walker takes a different route, stalking Reece from a higher vantage. All are in a prison of their own making: Reece in a penthouse with guards on the roof and in the lobby; Lynne without sleep; Chris sleeps with pills; Walker has no address. Both Reece and Lynne beg Walker to kill them. Walker looks through a window, but sees only himself: The city is his mirror.

Walker grows weary. When he finds Lynne – his first break – he comes in blazing, no greeting. By the time he gets to Chris, he lays his gun on her pillow. On the one hand, he wants answers. On the other hand, receiving the money he is owed is sufficient. It’s only when the money is in front of him that he hides in the shadows. He knows somehow that he’s different, but that he could become like The Organization.

It all comes down to a phone call, a hitman who wants to be paid. It comes down to a bureaucratic waste of time, to a man who carries no cash in his pockets, but organizes cash drops into Alcatraz. It comes down to a city crowded with people who, whether they’re on a boat or in a crowd, don’t know the reason. Money in Point Blank is not there for need, but for want. The sum Walker wants back – $93,000 stolen from him by Lynne and Reece – he didn’t earn, but also stole.

Lynne’s nails are painted the color of silver dollars. The house she shared with Reece is decorated in silver tones like tinfoil. One of the heads of The Organization has a kitchen full of gadgets: Everything is automated, meant to provide precision. Walker and Chris eat their dinner of French fries and burgers in a pristine fast food restaurant, where the artificial light makes every surface gleam. Chris wears marigold yellow, like a dandelion before it blooms.

Rarely does Walker smile, but in one memory with Lynne, he’s smiling. She undoes her long braid and lets her hair hang loose. The mist from the waterfront pier baptizes them. Walker’s memory acts as a reminder. He searches the city for Reece, and when he finds him, he lets him fall.